


My Lady

by lacewingss



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, That's pretty much all it is, short and sweet, superfluous use of the term My Lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 03:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4862114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwall always calls Keiyn 'my lady.' It takes her a while to understand and appreciate what that means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Lady

The first time Blackwall calls her _my lady_ she laughs.

It catches her off guard, strikes her as peculiar. He is somewhat gruff and unlike anyone she knows from her life before the Conclave and yet he calls her the same as they do. She feels like she is back home at her family's estate where she is Lady Trevelyan, or Young Lady. She doesn't understand when he uses the term it means he respects her. It's only a title, after all, and one that means she must behave and please don't eat more than three cakes, the guests will talk if you do. It means silk bedsheets and wine glasses and boring conversations.

Or on bad days it means she locks herself in her room at the Circle. Other mages mock her with what she must give up and remind her of their jealousy when her parents bribe her way out of the tower for holidays.

_She doesn't want to be that lady_ . So she laughs and doesn't try to see past his words. 

It's only after they make it to Skyhold that she really listens to his voice when he says it next. After all the pain and guilt, after so much fear that she can hardly believe she is still standing, let alone  _leading_ she finally hears the softness in the warden's tone. She feels the warmth in it like the dying embers of the campfires they share, like the way the whiskey he pours for her reddens her cheeks and he laughs, a hearty, happy laugh that she joins in after she finishes sputtering.  _My lady_ is respect, it is a growing affection and a promise. 

But when he whispers it into her lips, when she can taste the fullness of bourbon and blackberries on his tongue, she knows she will never hear anyone call her _my lady_ the way Blackwall does. Breathy and deep, it sends shivers down her spine, pulls at strings inside of her she didn't know were there. Each time she hears it now she savors it, laughter the furthest thing from her mind.

Being My Lady is not who she is anymore; she is not the young girl posing at nobility while everyone around her pretends the same, nor is she the girl holding back hot tears at Ostwick. Being _his lady_ is someone different altogether. It is someone confident and brave, someone who eats as many cakes as she likes and damn what others say. It is someone who is loved, who loves back with a ferocity she learns she is capable of bit by bit.

Keiyn can live with being that lady, and when he again breathes it into her ear she answers not with laughter but with a kiss.


End file.
